A Shared Night
by Mable
Summary: 8 decides to step in when he finds that 6 fell asleep while drawing, regardless of their past relationship, and regardless of where it will lead. *Based on a drawing, one-shot, light 6x8.*


**Mable: This is a short fic based off of a picture on Deviant Art titled '9: Not Such A Bully After All'. I just wanted to write something because it was such a cute picture! 3 There was another fanfic for the picture, but unfortunately it is lost, which is a shame because I would've liked to read it. Anyway, I don't own 9, Enjoy!**

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 _ **A Shared Night**_

Eight wasn't actually sure why he went into Six's room. Most likely it was to tease or play with the small Artist as he frequently did. Six was fun to play with, definitely. No matter what he did Six didn't ever take offense and didn't hold any sort of ill will, Eight used to assume that it was because his mind was too gone to suspect him. Though it was growing increasingly obvious that Six knew when Eight was planning something. It didn't usually effect the larger male's plans. Yet something did tonight. Eight entered into the room, one of many rooms built into the back of the Sanctuary, and immediately caught sight of Six.

The male was lying on the floor beside a drawing, his hand still resting on it and dripping ink. He legs were slightly pulled in and his head rested on his other arm. His mismatched optics were closed tightly; one of the first times that Eight actually entered to find Six asleep. Six didn't frequently sleep because of the nightmares and yet somehow he had fallen asleep drawing. A candle nub rested on the floor just above his head, sending a soft, warm glow over the striped fabric. Something just caught Eight tightly and refused to release him, holding him fast and causing him to simply stare at the display before him.

For a second Six looked awfully different, for lack of a better word 'cute', and it made the Guard feel uncomfortable when he realized that the second wasn't ending. He shook it off and approached with heavy footsteps, thinking that Six would be startled awake, but he wasn't. The Guard crouched down beside him and nudged the arm that was laying across the drawing. "Hey." But Six didn't move. Surprisingly he was actually in a deep sleep and it would take more than a little shift or a nudge to wake him. Eight ran a hand over his face tiredly as he thought over his options.

Part of him suggested he should just leave, but another part noted that if Two or Five was here they would put him to bed. They were probably pulling a late night with Nine and he doubted they would come check on the Artist anytime soon. Finally Eight gave in and reached down to lift the small male. It wasn't a hard effort as Six was small and light. The Artist's head rested against his shoulder limply and as the Guard stood his arms went to lock onto him. They slid around Eight's neck as though he was hugging a large pillow and his legs tucked under the male's arm. He got himself completely comfortable.

A chuckle broke out of Eight chest at the sight. Six would've been mortified if he was awake and yet here he was clinging on tightly. His pen tipped fingers dripped ink on Eight's back, he had taken his shoulder guard off shortly before coming in, and lightly grazed over the fabric. It sent a shiver across Eight's body. Not a particularly bad shiver, but a shiver no less. He turned to face Six's bed and stopped in his tracks. Usually Eight didn't really pay attention, didn't really notice things like this, but it suddenly occurred to him that Six's bed was rather pitiful.

None of the beds were perfectly made compared to how they were at the Cathedral. Back then they had time to build them, cushion them, and make adequate blankets. Now the move into the Library was so quick that they had to make due until they had time to work on every project. Eight would admit that Nine was a bit of a help with the work, but is simply wasn't enough to get everything done quickly. It didn't help that Six was quiet and didn't tend to complain if something was bothering him. It looked like a cot, but was thin with little bedding, topped with a thin, torn blanket and newspaper.

It was no wonder that the Artist wasn't sleeping as much as he should have been. For a few seconds Eight stood there before exhaling slowly, _"I've already gone this far. No point in stopping now."_ He tried to make it casual but it certainly wasn't. This wasn't the normal relationship that he usually had with the small male. He adjusted Six in his grasp and the striped male sighed softly, nuzzling further against the larger male's shoulder. Eight couldn't help but smile. He started to carry him out of the room and towards his own, assuming that the bed was large enough to fit them both on easily.

It wasn't like sharing beds wasn't a frequent occurrence anyway. His own room was actually a little smaller than Six's was, but it wasn't noticeable. So many knives and weapons he had recently collected were scattered around the room, waiting for their turn as Eight would sharpen, fix, and turn them into weapons. He stepped over them to the side of his bed and pulled the blankets down, then laid the small Stitchpunk down on the soft fabric bedding. He had to unwind the arms which soon pulled in against the smaller male's body. However, Eight's night was still not over.

A wet patch of ink rested on Six's cheek from either where he had been sleeping in his room or from some point when he accidently brushed his cheek with his hand. Eight hummed a bit before looking over and noticing a cloth scrap nearby that he usually used for cleaning weapons. After all, the weapons usually came out of the Emptiness caked in dirt, and he took the cloth before bringing it over, lowering it to gently wipe at Six's fabric. Six's fabric repelled ink well if it was still wet, but once it dried it left stains that were bothersome to get out. He could see others that had already dried around his wrists.

Eight also suddenly noticed that Six was smiling in his sleep, his inner metals felt like they were put in a vice. He was as gentle as he could be in an attempt not to wake the smaller. He decided not to dwell on why he was doing it anymore, there wasn't much of a point. He was doing it because clearly he wanted to. He had gotten softer after the incident that left him half burnt under tons of metal and every day he found himself wanting to bother Six less and less. But on the same hand he still wanted to do something with Six, he just didn't know what kind of relationship they could have other than what it was before.

The ink started to soak onto the rag and the cleaning slightly helped. Six would have to bathe in water to get it off fully, but it was much less visible. "…Eight?" The Guard flinched as he heard the smaller male speak and noticed the mismatched optics slightly open, looking towards him in confusion and weariness. Eight sputtered a little, not really certain what to say in response, and slowly pulled the rag away. "You got ink on your face." He excused and tossed the cloth off somewhere onto the floor, deciding that it wasn't important enough to keep in mind at the time being. He cleared his voice box and continued.

"You fell asleep on your drawing." Six blinked and stretched into the blankets underneath him. His pen tipped fingers clung at the soft fabric before starting to pat around. "Hmm?" He hummed in confusion and turned his head before noticing the bed. Before he could ask Eight explained, "I brought you in here. Your bed wasn't really working. I don't know how you sleep on that thing." Six still looked exhausted and mumbled a soft, "Its okay. It works." Something was a little off and the Guard reached out to brush his fingertips along his forehead.

Six's forehead was warmer than usually and signaled a fever. Out of everything the most common cause of a fever was exhaustion so Eight decided that going to stir Two from whatever he was doing wasn't necessary. "How long's it been since you slept?" He asked almost sympathetically and Six looked downwards with embarrassment. "…A while." 'A while' could've been any amount of days. Six had a shaky concept of time when he hadn't slept, losing hours just drawing away. Eight fought back exasperation and insisted, "Get some sleep, Six. You can stay here tonight." He swore he could see Six relax a bit more in relief.

"Thank you…" Six meekly murmured and Eight moved to adjust some of his weapons leaning against the wall, almost to distract himself. The Artist interrupted this with a quiet question, "Will you stay with me?" Eight actually managed to chuckle at this, "I'm not planning on handing over my bed, if that's what you're asking." It was more playful than he usually was with Six and the Artist seemed further comforted. It wasn't until Eight put down what he was doing and decided to climb into bed on the other side that he noticed Six was smiling again.

However, this time he was awake and somewhat alert, knowing fully what he was smiling at. Eight stared briefly and Six let his optics close. He dared to turn his body to face the Guard and curled into himself a bit. His hand clung to his key out of reflex and he looked quite content. Eight slipped into bed and tugged the blankets over him. This was still so different for him, sharing a bed, sharing it with Six of all Stitchpunks, and yet it sort of felt good. Maybe this was the relationship that they needed now. It wasn't as clean cut but he supposed that they could work out the details in time.

He exhaled and relaxed himself before sliding closer to Six, giving himself more room to stretch out. He couldn't tell if Six was still awake when the tiny Artist suddenly wrapped his arms around one of his much larger arms. He had pressed his face into the fabric, therefor hiding his mismatched optics enough from view that Eight couldn't see if they were opened or closed. He liked the affection regardless and was already glad that he had brought Six in with him. He reached out with his other arm and put it over Six's small frame, pulling him closer to his chest, delighted by the warmth that the smaller male provided.

It felt so much better like this. Eight wondered why sleeping alone was necessary at all, but finally allowed himself to admit that maybe it was Six. _"It's just for tonight."_ He reminded himself mentally. _"Things… They'll just go back to normal tomorrow."_ He reassured this, but part of him wasn't fully certain. "Night, Six." He spoke to the Artist as he decided to get to sleep finally. He didn't expect a response and he still received with. "Good night." Six softly mumbled back, on the verge of sleep but still awake, still willingly cuddling against the larger male.

Suddenly Eight had a feeling that Six would probably want to stay with him the next night too. In fact, he was counting on it.

 _ **FIN**_

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 **Mable: I hope that everyone enjoys reading this as much as I did writing it! ^-^ And please check out the drawing that the story was based on.**


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